Heirs of the Enemy (3 page)

“I am not yours to dismiss,” scowled the noble. “I am the Chosen One of Alutar, and you will treat me with respect.”

Lycindor rose, the muscles under his tunic rippling the worn fabric. His piercing blue eyes bore into the noble’s eyes as he moved slowly towards his host, but the noble unflinchingly stood his ground. The demonkin halted with his face mere inches from the noble’s.

“You may be the Chosen One,” the demonkin said, his voice as soft as a whisper yet as firm as death itself, “but I am a Claw of Alutar. My purpose is none of your concern.”

“Perhaps not,” retorted the noble, “but this is my home, and I will not be ordered around within it. I will remain here until you have passed through to the other side.”

Lycindor remained in the noble’s face a few moments longer and then suddenly turned away as if some distant thought had demanded his attention. He strode to the closet, opened the door, and stepped into it. On the opposite wall of the closet was another door, much finer than the first. The hidden Door was finely crafted from expensive teakwood. While it would not have seemed out of place within the mansion he was leaving, Lycindor knew that the same could not be said on the other side. The demonkin opened the Door and stepped into Alcea.

The Claw of Alutar closed the Door and stood in the darkness for a moment to get his bearings. He moved aside a curtain hung to hide the impressive teak door. When he had repositioned the curtain once more, he halted again and listened to the night sounds. The hunter’s cabin was so small that the demonkin could almost feel the walls surrounding him. He strode silently to the front door of the cabin and stepped outside.

The old hunter’s cabin was situated in the forest five leagues northeast of Southland in the Targa Province of Alcea. It was far from any of the roads leading out of Southland, which made it an ideal place for a hidden Door.

Lycindor inhaled deeply, letting the crisp night air invigorate his body. After a few moments of listening to the forest sounds, the demonkin turned to the east and strode into the forest. He walked on through the night, and when the first signs of dawn arrived, he caught his first glimpse of the Tagaret-Southland Road below him. He moved down the hill towards the road, but he halted before exposing himself. Again he stood silently and listened. The sounds of distant horses caught his attention, and the demonkin paralleled the road, keeping to the trees for concealment. Minutes later, a squad of Alcean soldiers rode by heading for Southland. When they were out of sight, Lycindor took to the road and continued eastward.

There was not much traffic on the Tagaret-Southland Road, and those few people who did pass paid little attention to the lone traveler. It was well past high sun when the demonkin saw a farmhouse atop a small hill alongside the road. Lycindor left the road and strode up the hill. A young man and a young woman were toiling in the field near the barn while two young girls played with a dog near the farmhouse. All of them watched curiously as the stranger approached. When it became apparent that the stranger was heading for the farm, the young man straightened and walked out of the field to meet him. Lycindor smiled broadly.

“Hello,” Lycindor called as the young farmer drew near. “I am on my way to Tagaret, but I could use a few days of rest. Can you accommodate me?”

The demonkin held out his hand in a friendly greeting. The farmer hesitated only a moment before greeting the newcomer with his own hand.

“Lloyd Becker,” stated the farmer. “It is a long walk to Tagaret, but I suppose you already know that.”

Lycindor smiled and nodded. “I couldn’t afford a horse, so a long walk will have to do. I am called Lycindor.”

“Well met, Lycindor. As for putting you up, I’m afraid that we don’t have the space to house you.”

“The barn will do well enough for the likes of me,” smiled the demonkin, “and I don’t expect you to feed me out of charity. I can see your woman toiling in the field by your side. I am more than willing to give you a couple of days of labor for a roof over my head and a few simple meals.”

Lloyd hesitated while he tried to take measure of the stranger.

“I’m a hard worker,” offered Lycindor.

“We could get the back field plowed, Lloyd,” suggested the woman as she stepped alongside the farmer. “Goodness knows we will be hard pressed to do it ourselves.”

“I can handle a plow,” smiled Lycindor.

“Why are you heading for Tagaret?” Lloyd asked.

“I want to join the army,” answered the demonkin.

“There is a garrison in Southland,” frowned the farmer. “It’s a lot closer than Tagaret.”

“I was there,” lied the demonkin, “but they said that I had to go to Tagaret. That is the only place where the Red Swords are recruiting.”

“The Red Swords?” balked the farmer. “You can’t just walk into Tagaret and join the Red Swords. They are the King’s Own. Only the best of the army is offered an invitation to join them.”

“So I heard,” smiled Lycindor. “I fought alongside Red Swords in the Great War. Some of them told me that if I ever wanted to join, they would sponsor me. That is why I am bound for Tagaret.”

“You must be a great warrior then,” the farmer said in awe as he reappraised the stranger. “Come along and I will get you set up with the plow.”

“My name is Sophia,” offered the woman as the two men started walking away.

Lycindor looked back at the woman and smiled warmly. Lloyd led the demonkin to the barn and proceeded to get his lone horse hitched to the plow.

“I envy you,” Lloyd said as they worked together to ready the plow. “My father said I was too young to fight in the Great War. By the time I was old enough, it was all over. What battles did you fight in?”

“The Battle of Tagaret. I probably should have joined the Red Swords right then, but I was younger and wanted to see the world first.”

“You hardly look older than me,” commented the farmer. “You must have started training early.”

“I have been told that I possess a natural talent for killing,” smiled the demonkin. “I saw a squad of soldiers on the road earlier today. Do they often patrol this area?”

“They don’t really patrol here at all,” answered Lloyd, “but soldiers come by every week on their way to or from Southland. The squad you saw this morning will be coming back up the road in a couple of days. If I had a spare horse, you could ride to Tagaret with them.”

“Maybe I will get lucky,” the demonkin responded. “Perhaps they will have an extra mount with them.”

“I doubt it,” replied the farmer. “I have never seen them ride by with an unmounted horse.”

* * * *

Sophia Becker sat up in bed and felt the empty space next to her where her husband should be. She turned and glanced around the room as the distant hammering reached her ears. When her eyes fell on Lloyd standing in the moonlight coming through the window, her brow creased.

“Why are you up?” she asked softly.

“Lycindor is chopping wood again,” Lloyd answered.

“He does that every night. That is no reason for you to leave our bed. Is something bothering you?”

Lloyd did not answer.

“Lloyd,” Sophia pleaded softly, “come back to bed. You worry too much. You will not be worth anything in the morning without some sleep.”

“And when does he sleep?” Lloyd asked suspiciously. “He works all day and chops wood all night. When does he sleep?”

“I don’t know,” sighed Sophia. “Lloyd, you should be glad that he sleeps very little. He has the back field already sowed, and we have enough firewood to last through next winter. Be happy that he happened along.”

“I should be,” admitted Lloyd, “but something about him troubles me. Maybe it is the way he looks at us.”

“What do you mean?”

“Have you never noticed his eyes? He has the look of a fox staring at a henhouse.”

“So his eyes are strange. So what? I don’t care how he looks at us as long as he keeps working the way he has. We will have a bountiful harvest this year.”

Lloyd was quiet for a while as he stared out the window and watched Lycindor chopping wood. When he spoke it was barely a whisper.

“I suppose his unnatural gaze doesn’t bother me too much until he looks at you and the girls. A shiver races through my body when I see him eyeing you up.”

“Well, there is nothing we can do about it.”

“Actually,” Lloyd said as he turned away from the window and pulled his pants on, “there is something that I can do. I am going to ask him to leave.”

“We can use the extra help, Lloyd.”

“I know, but this farm doesn’t mean anything to me if it brings harm to you and the girls. I want him out of here in the morning. I am going to speak with him now. Go back to sleep. I may be a while.”

Sophia sighed and nodded. She knew that no one could change Lloyd’s mind once he made it up. She watched her husband leave the room and then put her head back on the pillow.

Lloyd went downstairs and exited the small farmhouse, gazing up at the full moon as he rounded the corner of the house. Lycindor must have heard him coming because he had leaned the axe against the barn and stood waiting for the farmer.

“Was I making too much noise?” Lycindor asked.

“Do you ever sleep?”

“A couple of hours is good enough for me. If the noise is bothering you, I will find something else to do.”

“You have already chopped enough wood to last the year.”

Lycindor nodded silently. Lloyd frowned at the thought of asking the man to leave the farm, but he could not shake the uncomfortable feeling of having him around his family.

“Have you thought about continuing your journey to Tagaret?” the farmer asked.

“I have.” Lycindor cocked his head and stared at the farmer. With a glance up at the farmer’s bedroom window, the demonkin decided that it was time to move on. “In fact, I will be leaving in the morning, but before I go, there is something in the barn I want to show you. It is rather exciting.”

Without waiting for a response, the demonkin turned and strode into the barn. The farmer followed, wondering what could possibly be exciting in the barn. When he stepped into the darkness, Lycindor turned and placed a hand on the farmer’s head. Lloyd tried to reach up and remove the hand, but his body refused to cooperate. His mind began to swim, and his vision soon turned to blackness.

Lycindor reached out with his free hand and supported the farmer’s sagging body while he pulled the memories from Lloyd’s mind. When he was done, the demonkin snapped the farmer’s neck and lifted his body off the ground. He moved to the barn door and glanced up at the window. No one was looking out. He carried the farmer’s body to the front door of the farmhouse and opened the door. Inside the house, the demonkin put the farmer’s body on the floor. He climbed the steps silently and slowly opened the door to the farmer’s bedroom.

“What did he say, Lloyd?” Sophia asked without rolling over.

Lycindor’s lips curled upward in a wicked smile as he raised his arm and sent a fireball streaming into Sophia’s back. The woman screamed loudly, but the screams died quickly. Lycindor turned and headed for the girls’ room. When he touched the door, the dog started growling. As soon as the demonkin opened the door enough to enter the room, the dog leaped at him. Lycindor grabbed the dog by the throat and threw him into the wall. With an anguished yelp, the dog’s body fell to the floor. The demonkin glanced at the bed the two girls slept in. Neither of the children was stirring. Without a thought, the demonkin tossed a fireball at the bed. The bed burst into flames without a whimper from the girls. The curtains caught fire and smoke started to gather at the ceiling. The demonkin turned and walked away.

When the demonkin reached the ground floor, he turned slowly and sent fireballs flying in every direction. Within minutes the farmhouse was a flaming inferno, and it started to collapse. Lycindor stood and watched the flames devour the structure. A burning beam fell from above and struck the demonkin, but he brushed it aside. With his clothes on fire, Lycindor walked out of the burning farmhouse and then extinguished the flames eating his clothing. He walked away from the house and then sat on a stump and watched the fire consume the farmhouse. When dawn arrived, the house was nothing more than a charred pile of rubble, although smoke still drifted lazily upward.

The soldiers arrived less than an hour after dawn. They left the road and came up the hill to see if they could help, but they soon realized that there was nothing for them to do.

“What happened here?” the sergeant asked Lycindor.

Lycindor did not respond. He merely sat on the stump, staring at the destroyed building, his face a mask of hopelessness.

“I think he is in shock,” one of the soldiers whispered to the sergeant.

The sergeant nodded in agreement and placed his hand firmly on Lycindor’s shoulder. “Snap out of it, lad. Tell us what happened.”

“They are all dead,” Lycindor said so softly that only the sergeant heard him. “Gone. I should be dead, too.”

The demonkin hung his head down and stared at the ground before his feet. The sergeant frowned with concern and placed both hands on the man’s shoulders. He shook him vigorously until Lycindor raised his head and looked the sergeant in the eye. Streams of tears flooded down the demonkin’s cheeks and he sniffed loudly.

“I don’t know how it started,” blubbered the demonkin. “I was in the barn trying to get an early start on the day. By the time I realized something was wrong, it was already too late. I tried to go inside anyway and save my family, but the fire had already devoured the stairs. My whole life has gone up in flames.”

Lycindor started bawling, and the sergeant turned to the soldier nearest him. “Get this man something to eat and drink and then find some clothes that will fit him.”

The soldier ran off and the sergeant examined the farmer from a distance. The farmer’s hair was singed, and his clothes were badly burned, but there didn’t appear to be any life-threatening wounds.

“Who was inside?” he asked softly.

“Sophia and my two little girls,” Lycindor answered shakily. “I can’t believe that they are gone.”